


Arise, My Swan Prince

by Lunarium



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dancing, Dreams, Fairy Tale Elements, Hanahaki Disease, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sheith Secret Santa 2018, Some reference to Shiro's PTSD, Soulmates, Swan Lake Reference, True Love's Kiss, Winter, au elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 06:43:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17177876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/pseuds/Lunarium
Summary: A cold turns deadly, incited by fever dreams.





	Arise, My Swan Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Mad for Sheith Secret Santa 2018! Hope you enjoy! ♥
> 
> Many thanks to the ever amazing Genemister for beta’ing this! ♥ 
> 
> Elements of this story were inspired by this piece from [Swan Lake](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVBNVR1wQT8). It will be alluded to in the fic itself. :D

Every year, as the air dried, the temperature fell, and snow covered the ground under their hard feet, her son complained of the telltale tickle behind his throat. 

In truth, Keith had always fallen ill during the winter. As a child, it had been of little concern: sniffles, a little fever, some coughing and a sore throat. It was nothing that some tea and a couple days of bedrest didn’t solve. Back then, Krolia didn’t fear for him. 

But when he hit a certain age, he began to complain about a tickle in the back of his throat whenever he became sick. 

“It’s like…my body’s hot but my throat is freezing cold!” Keith had complained. “My chest feels congested. I cough and cough, but I can’t get anything out!”

And his eyes would water as he would cough vigorously in effort to clear his throat. It worried Krolia to no end that Keith didn’t stop coughing, but it could have been attributed to the way the weather and the way Keith’s unique heritage affected him.

Then one winter, he spat out the first of the dreaded petals, and they landed on the snow beneath his feet. They were beautiful, vibrant, _red_ and _bloody_ against the white snow. 

That was when true fear entered Krolia’s heart. She tried to deny the signs; surely she was only seeing things, as any loving mother would. Surely, her son had not just coughed up a flower petal! 

But more of the terribly beautiful petals had come up later on that evening as Keith lay nestled under layers of blankets. 

Krolia’s eyes widened and she set the mug of tea to the side. Curled up on the floor near Keith’s bed, Kosmo let out a little whimper. 

“You have to fight this,” she urged. 

Terrible thoughts rolled through her mind about the future. A simple cold had turned deadly. How many more winters would she have him? Would he survive _this_ winter? 

“I’m trying,” Keith insisted weakly. “I drank all the tea you gave me. I must have downed everything in this house, and all the tea from Kolivan’s and Ilun’s stocks. You’re taking this too far.” 

She picked up the tea again and offered it to him, but he shook his head. “No, I just want to sleep.” 

Krolia frowned. “You’re always worse after you sleep.” 

“That’s not true.” 

“I’ve noticed that’s been the case recently. Sleep used to help you, but…something’s changed. I can tell.” 

“How?” Keith asked and coughed heavily. “It’s not like I’m not sleeping well. I actually have wonderful dreams. There’s a man there, he’s so nice and patient—”

“A _man?_ —of course!” Krolia gasped. “The solution is simple—don’t dream of him anymore! He’ll drag you to your death!” 

Keith winced then chuckled. “Mom, no…he’s not wicked. I would know. I’m good at sensing these things.”

“Is he Galra?” 

Keith shook his head. 

“Is he…human?” 

“I think so…he looks a bit more like me than you.” Keith smiled apologetically. “I like him.” 

Krolia’s heart broke at the words.

“Keith…I’m sorry, but even though he’s just a dream, I think he’s making you ill.”

Keith’s watery eyes widened. “Mom, it’s fine! He makes me happy! It feels so nice having someone around my age as a friend. And even if he’s not real, I like him, a lot! _A lot!_ ” 

He smiled up at her, but Krolia’s gaze stiffly turned back to the bloodied petals still gathered at the blanket before him.

*

The Hanaki flowers of Crydor thrived in the spring and summertime. It loved hot and humid temperatures; death came swiftly when the weather dropped, and the climate turned arid and dry. Because Crydor’s winters lasted twice as long as any other season, plants had to find ways to survive the harsh and brutal environment in the meantime. Hanaki flowers were no exception, for they had a clever trick of surviving the long winters.

Throughout the spring and summer, they released tiny spores, barely visible by the naked eye. Those who stepped foot on the planet would unwittingly inhale the tiny, dry pieces of pollen, becoming hosts to the spores for the duration of the winter. The known hosts of these spores were usually left unharmed by this symbiotic act. Come spring, and exhaling would release the spores back out into the wide fields, where the flowers could blossom once more in beautiful jewel-like hues. 

For this reason the natives of Crydor, and later the Galra who had taken refuge in this planet, did not seek to destroy the flower. They were beautiful, and vital to the ecology of the planet. What of being a host to a few spores during the harshest months of the year? There was, according to the Crydorians, no harm done to hosts.

But to the Galra, they soon learned that they paid a deadly price for hosting Hanaki spores. For reasons unknown, should the host body have become emotionally vulnerable, especially when the cause was lovesickness or heartbreak, the spores would take root in the respiratory tract and grow. The symptoms would not be as overt if the host body was overtaxed by another illness, unless their immunity had been heavily compromised. However, once the spores began to root and grow inside the body, death was an inevitable threat. 

The refugee Galra from the STS Marmora, who had come here to escape Emperor Zarkon’s rule, thus found themselves with an enemy much more beautiful and crueler than the ancient despot ever was. It was only through sheer luck that any kind of cure was found—and, sadly, many had preferred death over the cure when it was discovered.

“It was for that reason that the remaining Marmorans had taken effort to not feel emotion,” Kolivan finished before turning to Krolia. “You yourself above all others should know.” 

Krolia bowed her head in shame. “I understand. I was inflicted with the illness myself shortly after we arrived here. I had just lost Heath, I had to flee Earth, and I was grieving. I almost died because of it, and Ulaz examined me and recorded his findings on the Hanahaki Disease because of it. I am grateful, but…” 

“…but you learned to give him up,” Kolivan said. “And that’s how we learned there’s a cure for this illness. We can continue to live here, to take refugee with our families while we fight the emperor, but we cannot let this ailment bring any of us to our knees. It’s the only way to survive on Crydor. Tell Keith he needs to forget the man in his dreams, no matter how real they may feel.” 

“I tried to tell him.” Krolia sighed heavily. “But this dream man...he’s human. At least, Keith thinks he’s human.” 

“It does not matter. Does he not consider himself Galra?”

“It is not his heritage he struggles with,” Krolia said. “He embraces it. Although smallest in our rank and more human in appearance, he is very Galra in blood. But that isn’t what I’m worried about, anyways. I once loved a human. I know a little about them. It is their affliction with magic, with _stories_ , which worries me.” 

“Are human stories any different from others in the universe?” 

“They are,” Krolia insisted. “I have seen it with my own eyes, Kolivan. Stories have a more powerful impact on humans, especially the more fantastical ones. Stories of the Fey which govern where they can plow land or not plow. Stories of demons and gods which dictate behavior and laws. Creatures whose words can incite curses and cure every disease known in existence. Humans have perfected a concept not even Alteans can decipher with their alchemy, a concept which is nothing the Emperor’s witch can simply break down into quintessence and study.”

She laughed. “And yet how strange, that for a race which can be so imaginative yet as ephemeral as their fairy tales are, all at once. Heath saved me long ago when I had crash-landed on his world, but he could not save himself from fire.” 

Kolivan regarded Krolia over the campfire. “Are you suggesting you were hoodwinked?” 

“Oh no! Please do not think I blame my own husband for falling in love with him!” Krolia sighed heavily. “It’s just that, humans have an intense affair with romance and being in love with love. They are obsessed with the idea of love, and mixed with the Galra’s fiery passions, I fear together that can be a dangerous mix. With someone like Keith who has these spores in his lungs and falling for a human who may not even _exist_ …this will just give Keith ideas. Unobtainable, impossible ideas. It’ll make him worse. And he _is_ part human, Kolivan. He’ll have the tendency inside him, to love and want to be loved, even if it is buried under everything that makes him Galra—no, the fire of the Galra blood inside him will only make these feelings more intense. It’ll destroy him! 

“And we both know the Galra do not fear death. The Empire and the Blades both have ingrained it in him. Victory or Death. Knowledge or Death. Who is say what his heart now tells him?” 

“Love or Death.” 

Kolivan scowled as he contemplated the campfire. 

“You must try to put a stop to this, Krolia. We cannot lose another of our number to these spores without a fight. Tell him that either he will give up his dream, or he will give up his life. It is that simple.”

*

His feet crunched under heavy snow. Keith glanced around himself, peering through the thick fog, and called for him again. His body shivered—was it from the cold? Or perhaps anticipation? He wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Shiro?” 

He smiled at the name. Shiro had explained to him a little about the meaning of his name, and walking here, amidst all this snow, it only served to keep reminding him more of his lover. 

_The waking world is just as white right now_ , Keith had told him the last time they had met up. _Kosmo loves to play in it—have I told you about Kosmo yet? Oh, only a dozen times! I am sorry! I can’t remember what I did and didn’t! In the waking world, I cannot stop thinking about you!_

He came upon a vast lake which had been frozen over. A tall man stood by the edge, studying it with slightly furrowed brow. Keith gave a little sigh of mix relief and longing. 

“Shiro.” 

The man turned around. His hair shone, a mix of deep space and starlight. 

“Oh, hey, Keith,” Shiro said warmly. Keith felt light fill his chest. “I was studying this lake and wondering what it meant. It appeared after I fell asleep. I haven’t seen it during our previous meetings.” 

“Did you figure out what it means?” Keith asked as he came up next to him. Their fingers entwined as Shiro smiled brightly. 

“Yes! I was being silly! I almost forgot what this was!” 

He turned so he was facing Keith and kneeled. “A dance, my love?” 

“Um…okay?” 

The Blades hadn’t taught Keith a thing about dancing, since they were fighters, not ballerinas. Still, he didn’t wish to turn anything down with Shiro. Before he knew it, he was whisked off his feet and the tips of their feet touched the surface of the icy lake. A protest began in Keith’s throat but died immediately when he realized their boots had somehow grown blades, enabling them to skate. 

A song began to adrift through the forest, and its melody struck Keith immediately. Bittersweet, poignant, profoundly romantic, and tragic; he gripped Shiro’s hand and peered into his eyes. 

“My Grandfather Ryou loved to take me to plays and ballets,” Shiro began. “His favorite was Swan Lake. It became a yearly tradition. We mostly ended up with ballets, but there have been some on ice performances, like what we’re doing. Any showing of ‘Swan Lake’ he could find, he’d take me. He was in love with the story. And being an impressionable kid, I loved it even though it made me cry.” 

Keith rested his head on Shiro’s chest. “Why did it make you cry?” 

“Because the princess was so close to being saved, but in the end she dies with her prince. Odette and her friends were cursed to be swans by day, only to return to human form by night. The only way to break the spell was for one who had never loved before to swear to love Odette forever. Siegfried would have been it, but the evil sorcerer that cast the curse had sent a decoy, his daughter Odile disguised as Odette, to dance with Siegfried at a ball, and Siegfried fell in love with her. He realized his mistake too late. In the end, both the real Odette and Siegfried decided to die together.” 

Keith frowned and gripped Shiro closer. “That’s terrible.” 

“There were other versions of the tale—happier versions. I wanted to see them, but the ones we always went with—” _a sigh_ ”—all had the original ending. I wanted to see Siegfried and Odette happy together _just_ once, but it never happened.” 

Shiro’s eyes turned down. “All my life it seemed I was always chasing an Odile, while only my dreams have allowed me to be with my Odette.” 

The meaning of his words slowly dawned on Keith. He gasped and looked up, smiling, but it was short-lived as he took in the sight of Shiro’s sorrow. “But I guess...just like Siegfried, I cannot have you. You don’t…someone so heavenly and perfect can’t possibly exist.” 

“Shiro, no!” 

“I wish you were real—”

“SHIRO—!!”

Keith sprung up in bed in a mad coughing fit, hacking up thick globs of petals. They wrecked his lungs with each heavy bark, drawing blood on the sides of his mouth. They rained down in every exquisite color of the Hanaki: snow-white and ruby red, indigo and lilac, midnight black and crimson. A few paces away, in the middle of making another mug of tea, Krolia watched in silent horror.

*

“Keith…?”

Shiro opened his eyes, but he was back in his room with only the hum of the spacecraft for company. The familiar ache took over in the wake of Keith’s absence. He had had such disastrous past relationships—one who wanted to hold him back from achieving his dreams, another who wormed his way into his life through creepy devotion, despite hating everything Shiro was and stood for (in the end, it was the man’s strange and disturbing fascination with the neighbor’s dogs that pushed Shiro to leave him). Shiro couldn’t help but feel he was denied something, that his true love was there all along while he had been searching elsewhere. 

Keith was different. The first time Shiro had met him in his dreams, somehow he had felt he knew Keith all his life. And he wept the moment he awoke. Keith was it, his Odette. And he wasn’t even real. Yet despite that, Keith had been so good to him. 

Shiro had been broken and made anew by the Galra Empire, several times over. The scars of his torture would last forever, but somehow in Keith’s company he felt a little less sick, a little less weary. Keith’s presence had eased his nightmares into pleasant slumbers. He could greet the mornings with a smile and a desire to take on the day. Keith’s company was initially like that of a good friend, but there seemed to be more to it as time went by. It turned into a sense of kinship, a sense of simply being meant to be. 

But perhaps the reason Keith was so good, so perfect, was because Shiro had created him in his own mind, Shiro had rationalized. He was broken, scared, depressed, but a fighter. Who was to say Keith was not another method his mind had employed to deal with his battle scars? 

And yet…Shiro sometimes wondered. He had felt he was comforting a flame inside Keith, as though Keith was not wholly human. Given the way his eyes always grew wide whenever Shiro spoke of Earth and human culture it seemed so plausible that Keith was not of Earth, or perhaps it was his mind just playing tricks on him again. 

And if he had ignited another kind of flame at the time inside Keith, he was unaware of it. And anyway, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t real. Keith wasn’t real.

_Please, come back_ , Shiro begged the dream, as he considered dozing off again, but as it was nearing daybreak, he decided it was better to just get out of bed. Princess Allura counted on him, and if all went well, Matt and Pidge would be sending him the coordinates for his next mission. He could be meeting up with Lance and Hunk if they had returned from their quest with Coran, or he could go on alone. 

He felt a twinge of sadness as he thought of Keith accompanying him, and he decided that he would rather just go alone after all.

*

The blast would have cleaved them all in half had the newcomer not stepped in the right moment, guarding them all with a magnificent violet energy shield that appeared before his bionic arm.

“Follow me!” he commanded. “An escape pod is set to leave in two doboshes!” 

Krolia furrowed her brow. With his helmet on it was difficult to tell who or what he was. The man lacked any Altean accent she could detect, though he was tall and strong in build like them. Whoever he was, he was clearly no friend of the Empire, judging by how the enemy reacted. Another blast missed his head by a few inches. His pupils narrowed into dots. 

He quickly recovered. “Come on!” he ordered, and Krolia mirrored the order for Ilun, Vrek, and Regris to follow. They ran, but Krolia turned back, peering down the hall as smoke rose from beyond the corner. 

“No, Thace!” she gasped. “My brother!” 

The man stopped and followed her gaze. 

“I’ll get him!” he said. “Get everyone to the escape pod!” 

And he was gone before she had time to respond. 

By the time they reached the pod, the man returned, supporting a large Galra over his shoulder. The door of the pod sealed shut just as they made it inside, and the pod blasted out into space, evading a few last-minute strikes by the sentries that followed. A split second later and the bombs detonated, the blast giving the pod an extra boost. 

The man set Thace down, who was grimacing; one clawed hand gripped his bleeding right side. 

“Thace!” Krolia and Regris helped him settle down. Ilun ran to the control panel. 

“I have set the coordinates to our headquarters,” she said, careful to avoid mentioning the name of their destination with the strange man in their midst. 

“Right.” Sensing their discomfort, he removed his helmet to show his face. “My name is Takashi Shirogane, and I am a paladin fighting under Princess Allura. I do not wish to be an enemy. I…I did not know there were Galra fighting the empire until I had witnessed your group planting explosives on this ship. I…I’ve had my suspicions before, there have been—er…never mind.” 

Krolia scowled before taking a step forward. She watched as Shirogane messaged Princess Allura and reported his status. 

“You’re away from your base,” Krolia said. “You will come with us to ours for the time being. My brother was grievously hurt, and it would take longer to deposit you in your home base before returning to ours.” 

Shirogane nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to him sooner.” 

“No, this is because of me,” Krolia said. “I was unable to think clearly while on this mission. My son is dying.” 

Shirogane’s eyes widened. When he spoke, his voice was filled with genuine warmth. “I’m sorry.” 

She sucked in a deep, shuddering breath before recomposing herself, and the flash of weakness was suddenly gone before Shirogane’s eyes. He furrowed his brows in confusion but said nothing.

*

They arrived at Crydor within three vargas. By then Thace’s breathing had turned shallow, but Shiro was doing everything he could, working alongside Vrek who knew a bit of First Aid, to keep the Galra from bleeding out until they reached the Blades headquarters.

The land was icy cold, that Shiro shivered once they stepped outside. Ilun set the pod at the mouth of a vast mountain. The leader of the Blades approached them. Following behind was a Galra scientist; his robes instantly set off flashes of painful memories in Shiro’s mind, and he pressed a hand against the wall as means to prevent his knees from giving out.

“Kolivan,” Krolia addressed. 

“Is the mission successful? Is everyone in one piece?” their leader Kolivan ordered, and everyone sounded off. Shiro tried to make himself known but he was too busy with keeping his breathing steady. 

“Krolia, I’m sorry, but your son’s condition worsens—Thace!” 

“It’s all right, beloved, I’ve had worse injuries,” Thace answered with a grim smile. 

“Get him to the infirmary quickly!” 

Ilun yelled back her subordination and ushered Vrek and Regris along with her. 

“Where is—” Krolia began. 

“Still in his room,” the scientist said. “As it was his wish to be at home for his passing. His vitals are getting dangerously low. He might not last the night.” 

Again, Shiro noticed a strange affliction cross the woman’s face; as if grief took hold of her before she cast it aside. She left without another word. 

The scientist regarded Shiro next, and Shiro’s eyes widened. 

“Ulaz?” he said. Though his body still trembled, he managed to straighten up as Ulaz approached him. “Is that really you?” 

“Good to see you again, old friend,” Ulaz said. “I see you have not left the fight.” 

“I would never,” Shiro said. “There are too many people hurt by the Empire. Just because I was freed, doesn’t mean I can turn my back at everyone else. Even should we win the war, there will always be work to be done throughout the universe. I will dedicate my entire life to the effort. 

“After you helped me escape Zarkon’s prison, I found my way back into the battlefield, but this time with friends from Earth. I’ve been fighting right under the command of Princess Allura herself. I am one of the Paladins of Voltron, together with my three friends and with the princess herself.”

Ulaz smiled. “Strength flows in you like a true Blade. But…you’re shaking! Go inside and rest. It will be some time before we receive our new mission. Perhaps we may contact Princess Allura and come to an agreement together later on tonight.” 

Shiro nodded. “I would like that.” 

He entered the cave alone, feeling a little discombobulated, as there were little in the means of signs telling him where he could go. Would they give him a room to lodge in? A common room he could rest up? Or perhaps he should wait for Ulaz to take him to the infirmary, as his nerves were still set on alarm over that sudden flashback? 

He kept walking, as the simple activity in the dim corridors allowed his breathing to settle back to normal, until he passed a room with the doors wide open. He had not meant to peek inside, but a glass case caught a reflection of light from within, and Shiro stopped in his tracks. 

What a strange thing, he thought and found himself going inside. 

It was someone’s home. Small and compact, the apartment was just one of many, but what made it remarkable was the glass case over the bed. Shiro somehow didn’t think the Galra slept like this. Something odd was happening. Remembering Ulaz’s words to Krolia about her son, he approached tentatively. 

The face loomed closer as he got nearer, though everything was foggy through the glass. A strange feeling, an intuition, began to spread through him. 

Suddenly there came a whimper, startling Shiro. A large wolf, midnight with streaks of bright blue, lay curled by the bed. It was the light from the wolf’s eyes and bright fur which the glass had been reflecting, but that wasn’t what caught Shiro’s interest. 

“I know you…” he said slowly. “He told me about you…” 

The wolf peered up at Shiro and whimpered again. 

Shiro turned back to the fogged glass case as the strange, uneasy feeling grew. 

He normally wouldn’t court such careless behavior, crashing in on someone’s home and doing _this_ , but he needed to know. 

He removed the glass cover. And gasped loudly. 

_“Keith?!”_

It was him. The man of his dreams. It was impossible. He was _real_ all along, but something was terribly wrong. What was with the glass case? Why was there blood on the corners of his lips—his bluing lips— and why were there petals lining his frame? 

“He will not make the night,” a voice came behind him, startling Shiro. He spun around to see Krolia. If he had offended her for barging into their home, she didn’t show it. “His illness has grown fatal. And it’s all _your_ fault.” 

“I’m…I’m sorry,” Shiro gasped back tears. “I don’t understand.” 

“The spores in this world infect the lungs of everyone,” Krolia explained. “They’re harmless, unless you’re a Galra who has grown weak from heartbreak or deep longing. Then the disease manifests as the spores grow as flowers in the lungs; the host coughs up petals until they die of suffocation.”

“Galra? Keith is Galra?” Shiro asked. “But he looks—”

“Human? Because his father was. A terrible mistake on my part. I nearly died from the same illness after losing Heath. Keith was still so young. 

“And now it was the dreams he had of _you_ that encouraged his illness to grow. He could think of nothing else but you. ‘A man with hair like deep space and starlight. Eyes deeper and more mysterious than any black hole.’ That is how he described you to me. I knew it was you the moment you removed your helmet, but then you said your name was Takashi Shirogane.” 

“It is,” Shiro said. “‘Shiro’ is the name my closest friends call me. That’s what Keith would know me as.” He turned back to Keith, and a hand caressed one cold cheek. “I’m so sorry…I was too lost in my own longing. I didn’t think there was anything more to those dreams.”

“He did not think you would ever come to him, either. He thought he would be forever like this, longing for you, wishing you in his dreams, able to touch you but not being able to feel you. It drove him mad. I watched him deteriorate. He was once among the best of our soldiers. Then he could barely lift his own blade. Now…he is taking his final breath.”

Krolia practically spat her last words. 

“Your love killed him.” 

“No! There has to be another way!”

“It is either death. Or a love returned that can save him.” 

“A love returned? I’m here, aren’t I? I’ve longed for Keith all this time, but I—I was foolish! I thought I was only dreaming! If only I had known! Keith— _Keith!_ I’m here now! Keith, I’m here!” 

Kosmo jumped to his feet, watching intently. 

“You’re wasting your time.” Krolia closed her eyes and turned away, though Shiro had caught the pain etched on her face. “You’re too late.” 

Shiro shook his head. “No…I can’t be!” 

“It is so,” Krolia sighed. “I’ve resigned myself to my son’s fate. He succumbed to love. It is truly a sign of vulnerability. I know now why the Galra seek to burn all imperfections from our race. If only I had been better in teaching him how to keep his own feelings at bay…he loved you so much, Shirogane.” 

“No…” Shiro hiccuped back a tear. “But there is always hope. Love and hope go hand in hand!” 

He kneeled down before the bed and cradled Keith in his arms. Vines had grown out of his mouth, and Shiro winced at the thought of thrones piercing through his lungs and trachea. The petals around him, beautiful though they were, were stained with dried blood. 

Shiro pressed his forehead against Keith’s, feeling his temperature, so cold.

But the faintest of breath could still be felt on his cheek. Shallow and vague, yet still there. 

“I’m here, Keith,” Shiro said softly as he gingerly picked away at the entwining vines from Keith’s mouth. “I’m here, buddy.” 

He removed just enough before dipping his head in, locking his lips with Keith’s. He felt a throne cut his lips but he did not move away. The lips against him were cold, but he kept himself there, feeling the skin he so ached for so long, barricaded by the veil of dreams. He moaned gently, his warmth filling the man beneath him. 

“Arise, my swan prince,” Shiro spoke softly before another, deeper, kiss. “ _Please_. I love you.”

He felt the hollow bones in his hands stir as the muscles contracted, and warmth filled his arms. Beneath him, Keith let out a loud, sudden, wheezing gasp, and the vines suddenly fell from his mouth, with one final, full Hanaki blooming from his mouth before it, too, dropped down onto the sheets. For a moment, Keith didn’t move again.

Then, color bloomed back to Keith’s cheeks, and his eyes shot open. 

_“Shiro?”_

“I’m here, Keith” Shiro said, smiling down. “You are not dreaming. I’ve found you.” 

Keith glanced up at him, amazement swirling in his eyes. “You’re…you’re here.” 

Shiro chuckled. “Your mother brought me here.” 

“After he saved my hide,” Krolia added behind him. A crack in her voice suggested she was close to tears, happy tears. Not the sort that would make her succumb of to the flower’s illness. 

Keith coughed, and Shiro tensed, but nothing came out. Amazed, Keith felt around his mouth, inside his cheeks, touched his neck, his chest. 

“I don’t feel congested anymore,” he said. “Shiro…” 

Keith threw his arms around him. “Shiro…I love you!” 

He brought Shiro down on the bed over him, and Shiro laughed, half-embarrassed in front of Krolia, but a quick glance showed she had backed off along with Kosmo; a click of the door and he could vaguely make out her voice informing someone that Shiro and Keith required some time alone. 

Smiling and feeling like his own heart was soaring through space, Shiro swept down and kissed Keith—his dream man, the man he himself had wept and yearned for so long—kissed him madly, deeply, passionately several times over. “I love you too, God, Keith, I love you!” 

For once, his dream—and Keith’s—had finally come true.


End file.
